I've been sitting here a long time, trying to figure out what
to say to you, how to explain what happened in a way that
you would understand. I got into a bar fight. No big deal,
except this cop tried to break it up, and they say I hit him.
I know what you're thinking, we've talked about how my
temper would get me into trouble one day, and, well,
today's the day, I guess.
I don't want you to worry. I know a bit about military law,
and if I'm right, and it is like civilian law, then I think I
can beat this. The bail hearing is set for tomorrow, so I
should be out by the weekend. I'm only sorry that I won't be
able to travel back and spend it with you, like I'd planned.
I called Mom, she was pretty upset. I know she wants me to
settle down, get a nine to five job, stay out of trouble, but
that just seems stifling. There is something out there for me,
I know it. I just have to find it. Anyway, she said that she'd
arrange bail, get it from somewhere. Meaning that she's
going to one of my old man's old friends. The guy is
loaded, the bail would mean nothing to him, but the idea
of asking him for help - I almost wish that she wouldn't ask
him, at least then I wouldn't have to see his patronising
face when he agrees to help out, which he will. You don't
know this guy, Lizzie, but you have to wonder at his
motivation sometimes. My old man didn't exactly inspire
loyalty in those who knew him.
I'm sorry, I shouldn't write things like that, not to you.
Listen, I'm fine, don't worry about me, and I'll write after
the bail hearing.
